Юнас Юнассон - The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man

Anyway. At last Sweden forcibly closed its border with neighbouring Denmark. No one was let across the bridge without first being thoroughly inspected. Thousands of people who commuted between the countries experienced terrible delays.

This got immediate results. Sweden lost its reputation as heaven on earth and the number of asylum-seekers decreased from everyone to almost no one. Meanwhile daily life between the big cities of Malmö and Copenhagen was disrupted. For the first time in decades, it became clear that Sweden and Denmark were two different countries that you couldn’t randomly travel between as you wished. No matter the colour of your skin.

But now, however, it was time for a thaw in the relationship. Sweden planned to stop requiring ID from everyone who wanted to come over from the Danish side. This would be replaced with more effective border control in Sweden. Thus the Swedish border police needed fresh resources, and the long and the short of it was that the prime minister had asked Minister for Foreign Affairs Wallström to travel to Malmö to speak with the border police about the new government policy. And, if possible, reassure anxious civil servants who didn’t understand how they could be ready in time. She would strike a tone of international perspective and help the hardworking civil servants understand that they were an important part of a greater whole.

Marking oneself present , as politicians called it.

The minister took a commercial flight between Stockholm and Malmö, and after the meeting with the border police was over and had even gone well, she had three hours of free time. After considering it for a while, she informed her security team that she was planning to take a brief private side trip in Malmö before their journey home.

A side trip? Just like that? The bodyguards wanted to know more. The minister told them that the people she wished to see were old acquaintances (exactly how old, she didn’t say), and posed no threat to her. At this, they all agreed that she would be escorted to the desired address but left alone from the front door of the building onwards. Security was important, but so was personal integrity.

Johnny Engvall thought he recognized one of the two women in the hall. It was obvious which one was Esmeralda – the one with the knick-knacks around her neck. The other looked more like a businesswoman, and she was the one who seemed familiar somehow.

Margot Wallström had done an about-face. Suddenly she didn’t feel quite so secure in this situation. The man who’d come up behind her was wearing a lot of leather and gave a generally rough impression. She turned back to Sabine.

‘As I was saying, I’m looking for Julius Jonsson and Allan Karlsson. But I see you have a visitor, so perhaps it would be better for me to return later.’

Sabine thought fast. ‘There’s no one by those names here.’

But Johnny Engvall had overheard. And he was on his way to understanding.

‘Allan Karlsson?’ he said slowly.

The hearse was parked just a few blocks away. What an idiot he was.

‘I know an Allan Karlsson,’ Johnny went on. ‘He’s on the board of a company north of Stockholm that makes coffins. And it has a connection to another company in the clairvoyance industry…’

‘I have no idea what—’ Sabine said, but she was interrupted.

‘And Karlsson’s hearse is parked around the corner.’

‘Hearse?’ Sabine tried.

‘Hearse?’ Minister Wallström said, more genuinely.

But by now the strange man had produced a knife.

‘May I ask you ladies to back slowly into the apartment? We have a few things to discuss. I think today is my lucky day.’

That last bit wasn’t accurate, but there was no way he could know it.

Johnny felt sad inside when he realized that the rest of the day would lead somewhere that didn’t involve making contact with his big brother. His sadness turned to rage. He got into gear and changed his tone.

‘I haven’t stabbed anyone to death for several years, so this will be nice. But first you’ll have to tell me where the man who took my coffin order is. His name was Karlsson, right? I want to do away with both of you at the same time, if possible. And you, into the bargain, I think,’ Johnny said, turning to the minister for foreign affairs. ‘Have we met before?’

Margot Wallström had learned the hard way that Allan Karlsson and his friends were to be avoided. But it was too late now. Suddenly the bodyguards down on the street seemed very far away. The question was, would she increase or decrease her chances of survival if she told him who she was? At last she made up her mind.

‘Interesting,’ she said. ‘I recognize you too. Is there any chance you were once the Swedish ambassador in Madrid? If so, perhaps we’re colleagues. I’m the head of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs in Stockholm.’

Johnny Engvall was flustered. For one second.

‘You’re the minister for foreign affairs?’ he said. ‘What the hell is going on?’

Sabine seized her chance. ‘Can you two be quiet, please? I can feel that I’m making contact. Kenneth? Is that you, Kenneth?’

Her distraction had the intended effect. Johnny’s eyes went wide as Sabine raised both hands in the air and looked up. Her movements were almost eerie in the dim light. And long shadows were falling on a nearby coffin.

It’s possible it wouldn’t have taken Johnny more than ten seconds to see through Sabine’s trick, but since the minister for foreign affairs needed only half of that time to think through the situation, things went as they did. She spent the first two and a half seconds wondering if she could scream so loudly that the bodyguards outside would hear and come to the rescue. She spent the next abandoning that idea in favour of grabbing the table lamp off the bureau next to her and slamming its base into the Nazi’s head.

Johnny Engvall dropped to the floor, unconscious or dead – which it was remained to be seen.

‘Hands in the air!’

Allan had entered the room by way of the kitchen door, with his airgun.

‘You were supposed to distract him before I got him in the head with the bat, not after,’ said Julius, who had just come in from the other direction.

‘And you were supposed to bat him in the head before the minister for foreign affairs did the same with the lamp,’ said Sabine.

She had really scored quite a hit, that minister. Now she stood there with the table lamp in hand, feeling totally empty.

‘Well done, Margot,’ said Julius. ‘If I may call you Margot?’

The minister nodded. ‘By all means,’ she said.

Questions of etiquette were way down her list.

Allan and Julius had heard the drama playing out from their respective positions. Where on earth had the minister for foreign affairs come from?

According to the original plan, Allan was to make use of one of the entrances to the living room, the one from the kitchen, and wave his gun. During the seconds it would take the Nazi to realize the gun was as harmless as the hundred-and-one-year-old holding it, Julius would knock him out with the baseball bat.

‘Well, it all turned out okay in the end,’ was Julius’s summary. ‘No thanks to slowcoach Allan.’

‘Or to you,’ said Sabine.

‘It all turned out okay?’ said Minister Wallström. ‘There’s a potentially dead man at my feet. And I potentially killed him.’

‘There, there,’ said Allan. ‘Let’s not allow our moods to be darkened by so little.’

‘I can hear him breathing,’ said Sabine. ‘By the way, we didn’t get to say a proper hello, Minister. My name is Sabine Jonsson. I’m not married to Julius, even though we have the same last name. But it’s never too late.’